You are crazy. The first time I felt you, your kick was so powerful I doubled over. You climb stairs one foot at a time even though your body is still so small and you can't walk without our hands to steady you. You walk over everything; where your brother would saunter carefully around, you purposefully trample--stuffed and live animals, piles of metal toy cars, people, chairs. Crazy. You jump toward puppies but you have no fear. (I'd like to see you with a little more fear.) We already see your might will. You are the most comfortable, cuddly person and I can't believe you prefer me to anyone else. God rue the day that changes.
When I first learned you were a daughter and not a son, I felt lost. Blind, deaf, directionless. I had no sense of how to raise a woman, how to have that deep mother-daughter relationship. You encountered a few hiccups in this first year, and I had your back; you've taught me so much about being a better mother just by being your joyful, sassy self. I came to know the hope and wonder it is to believe that we will have something unique, something only given and earned between a mother and daughter.
I am honored to know you. You impress me and intrigue me; you are mysterious. This year with you has convinced me that you'll need the very best that I can be, and I want to give that to you.
Happy first birthday, my love.